Et Tu?
by Grabbag Lapidary
Summary: While eating shawarma, the Avengers discuss red in their ledgers, karma, grace, debt-paying, duty and how Loki might have been right. No action, no romance, no 'shipping or blowing stuff up. Short, thoughtful piece that will raise hackles. You were warned!


**A/n :** This is not your fangirl's _The Avengers_ fanfic.

You have been warned. This is a fanfic which explores ideas really only tangentially discussed in the movie (in the Loki / Black Widow interrogation scene) – the idea of "red in the ledger" and paying debts. There are extensive author's notes at the end of the fic (I don't want to clog this up) but, here are the warnings;

i) This fic was written in a single day (really, just a couple of hours) in two sittings. The break came just after Bruce laughs and says we can't wipe out red in our ledgers. Not sure if that is relevant, but – as this was written quickly, almost stream-of-consciousness – the seam might be visible. It was written shortly after seeing the movie once, and then reviewing key scenes on YouTube and the IMDB quotes page.

ii) This fic is based on the after-the-after-the-credits scene in _The Avengers_ where (spoilers!) they go and eat shawarma. If you missed the scene in the theater (I did) you can find it on YouTube. It is short, and silent. I've tried to hit some of the "notes" of that scene – Tony crumpling the paper of his sandwich, Bruce laughing, Clint's legs on the back of Natasha's chair, Steve supporting his chin with his hand and not eating, etc.

ii) As _might_ be considered appropriate for a movie where one of the lead heroes says "There's only one God, and He doesn't dress like that" this is a Christian piece. Remember that Bruce Banner (in the comics) is Catholic, and that even Tony Stark has acknowledged this sympathetically.

Any review is gratefully received – as are ones for my earlier Stark-Rogers piece _Time_ – but be warned simple flames and insults aren't the way to start a reasonable conversation.

Enjoy! Further notes at the end of the fic. The whole story itself is only 2500 words; it's short and you might like it.

**Et Tu?**

The unprepossessing restaurant in downtown Manhattan had been – perhaps miraculously – untouched by the chaos and carnage of the Chitauri attack and subsequent Avengers' defense. 'Phone lines and electricity were out, of course – lines severed by a misplaced Mjolnor strike, stray shield blow, or perhaps an errant Hulk smash.

Tony didn't care – he wanted novelty, and little things like a complete loss of power and communications were not about to stand between him and his shawarma. He pulled something out of his pocket – a little red-and-gold box with truncated corners – and flipped the three prongs of a standard grounded plug out of it. Thirty seconds with the main breaker box and a screwdriver left the restaurant isolated from the shattered New York grid and ready to accept his box of tricks in one of the sockets. The lights flickered, stabilized, and blazed on.

He left his Starkphone on the counter, the EPOS machine plugged into it. "Shawarma," he said, indicating the other five Avengers with a circular motion of his hand. "And maybe some pants," he added as an afterthought, gesturing more explicitly at Bruce.

There was silence – except the doughy noise of jaws working, the crackle of greaseproof paper, the squeak of polystyrene cups – for several minutes and two rounds of shawarma. It was Natasha who broke it.

She turned to Clint, lounging with his feet on the seat of her chair. "Well," she said softly, "we did it. We wiped some of it out."

Clint didn't answer. He took another bite, chewed thoroughly, swallowed thoughtfully. On the other side of the table, Tony crumpled greaseproof paper into a ball, his gaze distant and introspective.

Slowly, his eyes shifted to look at her. "A debt?" he asked. "Your debt? Little-Miss Spider-Queen wants to free the flies?"

Muscles bunched in Natasha's fine jaw as she clenched her teeth. "Yes," she said tightly. "Maybe cut someone else's webs. There's red in my ledger."

Tony shrugged, easily. "Mine too," he admitted. "I spent a long time, made a lot of money, profiting . . . ironmongery." He wasn't really talking to her any more. "I had people stand by me for years while I – and they – reaped the benefits of my destruction. Now, I'm trying to protect the people I put in harm's way." He looked up, seemed to notice Natasha again. "I wasn't happy with zero accountability."

Clint lifted his gaze. "You do have a heart," he remarked, almost scornfully.

Tony shrugged. "Vibranium and cold fusion," he said with a smirk. Clint's shaft wasn't going home.

"So what's that armor made of?" asked Natasha.

"Titanium-gold alloy," replied Tony, his brows furrowed at what he thought was her non sequitur, but she shook her head.

"I don't mean _that_ armor," she explained. "Let me guess – flippancy and sarcasm?"

Tony locked eyes with her. "Maybe a little bit of daddy issues," he said acidly. "I guess we all have them." She blanched and closed her eyes briefly, settling herself. "Sorry," he said. "That wasn't deliberate – if I'd known . . ."

"You'd have been more on target?" asked Clint.

At the other end of the table, Steve stirred himself, pulling his chin off his hand. "Barton," he said sharply, "that's enough. We're all on the same team here. We're all trying to do the same thing – make something right."

Clint had the decency to blush. "Sorry, Cap," he mumbled. He looked up at Tony. "Sorry, Stark." Tony shrugged as if the issue was of no matter.

"Can't we all just get along?" Steve asked, perhaps forlornly.

"Very Rodney King," said Bruce softly. He touched his forehead, chest and then each shoulder in turn as he said the name, and then bent himself back to his food.

Steve thought for a moment, smiled, nodded. "I get that reference," he said. His mouth turned down at the corners. "Poor guy. Hard life. Not right, just going out and beating on a negro like that."

Tony raised a finger. "Yeah," he said, slightly urgently, "_about_ that . . ."

"I was wrong about you, Stark," Steve said, "and I'm sorry. I said you wouldn't be the guy to lie down on the wire – and, you did. I'm sorry."

"I'd have cut the wire if I could," Tony assured him. "I'm . . . not the hero type."

Steve shook his head. "There's less red in your ledger," he assured him. At the other end of the table, Bruce laughed. Steve grinned automatically, even though he didn't get the joke. "Something funny?" he asked.

Bruce's laughter was the noise a man embarrassed by another's error makes. "We can't wipe out red in our ledgers," he said simply.

Natasha's face was flint. "We did a good thing today," she insisted. "We saved lives. We saved _the world_."

Bruce shook his head, picked a bit of gristle out of his teeth. "I'm not saying we didn't – I'm sure we did. And I'm not diminishing that achievement, or denying that we did a good thing. But . . . it doesn't wipe out the red in a ledger. You _can't_ wipe out the red in a ledger."

"It's a metaphor," said Clint, exasperated.

"And a good one," admitted Bruce. "But perhaps too good. I know a little about finance – research grants, running a lab, paying for a clinic in the slums – and a debt is always a debt; the red never goes away. The best you can do is set something on the _other_ side of the ledger." He sipped at his iced tea. "But you were still in debt."

Natasha smiled. "That's what I mean," she said. "We put something on the other side of the ledger today. Seven _billion_ somethings."

"This is not the King's Treasury, Natasha." Thor spoke suddenly, his resonant voice rumbling off to her left. She turned to face him. "There is no exchequer to count and tally; would you reduce the lives and freedom of people to naught more than a balance sheet?"

"No . . ." she began. "When you put it like that . . . but we did the right thing!"

Steve pushed against his all-but-untouched food and leaned towards her. "I think what Thor is driving at is . . . did we do it because it was the right thing, or because there was red in our ledgers?"

"A man pays his debts," Thor said urgently before Natasha or Clint could utter a rebuke – Tony and Bruce were watching with interest, albeit of different kinds. "That is a given – a man pays his debts to those he owes or their sons. He pays his debts for favors done, against injuries suffered. And if honor demands, a man suffers for his crimes or errors – that is a debt-paying.

"But we are not mere thralls, owing nothing but a repayment of our debts. We are men burdened with great power and with that comes great responsibility. We are Jarls – the nobility of this world – and we owe and are owed something greater than mere debt-paying."

"Don't look now," said Clint, "but you're beginning to sound like your brother."

"And why should I not?" Thor asked. "Though his mind may be a sack of felines, there is a truth to what Loki said – but like the snake that lives in the hive there is poison within the honey. Loki would have power without responsibility, without being beholden to any but himself. No man and no law would have bound him, and that is the difference between us."

"Just for the record," said Tony, "that's a _big_ difference."

"The duty we are burdened with," continued Thor, "is one only we can discharge. We owe it to these people – though they have no claim of debt on us – to protect them from the likes of the Chitauri and my ill-minded brother."

"And if it's something we owe," Bruce threw into the conversation, "can we really put it on the black side of the ledger?"

"We saved _millions_ of people in New York alone!" exclaimed Clint. "You can talk about duty all you like, but what we did saved _millions_ of lives – not to mention the enslavement of the whole planet."

"So when do we get to start playing _Predator_?" asked Tony. He held his hands up like a scale and moved them to and fro. "Millions on the credit side of the ledger, somewhat less than that on the debit – I'm assuming, of course." He looked around the table. "I mean, I'm seeing some guilty people here, but none of us are . . ."

"That's enough!" snapped Clint. "I've had it with you making fun of this – of course we can't . . ."

Suddenly, it was as if Tony had never smiled in his life. "Why?" he asked.

Clint blinked once or twice, stunned to silence. Natasha spoke for them both. "Why?" she repeated. "What do you . . . . ?"

"Stark raises a good point," said Steve. "And I think we miss it because we're so used to him wearing the armor we don't recognize when he's willingly vulnerable. If saving a life is the same worth as taking it, then can we – saviors of the world – slaughter at whim? Is that what we are saying?"

"_No_," said Clint firmly, as if explaining something to a child. "No, and we can't."

"But why?" asked Tony.

Natasha sighed heavily. "Because . . ." Her voice trailed off. "You know why."

"Because sin is sin?" suggested Bruce.

Tony chuckled. "Ah, now you're using terms people don't like," he said softly. Bruce turned to him.

"Is this just an intellectual game to you, Tony?" he asked.

Tony was silent for long seconds. "No," he said at length. "What you're discussing – what _we're_ discussing – is the difference between karma and grace. And I'd be worried – because I don't think there are enough good deeds in the world to save Howard Stark's boy. If it comes down to it, I'd want to rely on grace, not karma."

"The billionaire philanthropist doesn't like the idea of _karma_?" asked Natasha incredulously.

"No," said Tony, "because of what Thor said." He tapped his chest – it gave off a disturbing glassy _tink_. "This is a terrible privilege," he explained. "I owe it to the people of the world to stand between them and things like the Chitauri, and Loki, and warlords and terrorists. Same with charity, and clean energy. I _owe it_. It's my duty. And you can't put duty on the black side of the ledger." He shrugged. "And the playboy merchant of death doesn't like the idea of karma much either," he said softly.

"And even _if_ we could pretend that good and evil cancel each other out," Bruce continued, "debts must be paid to the one owed, right? Otherwise, well, I don't like to bring up Hitler, but . . ."

"I think I've got the right to do that, Doc," said Steve with a grin. "He killed millions, started a war, sent millions more to their deaths. But . . . got Germany back on its feet. Did it all for the German people. Helped them. Hurt others." Steve shrugged. "We all know that's wrong, but . . . isn't that what we're arguing? That you can wipe away red in your ledger with black that doesn't match up?"

"Then I can never wipe away that red," whispered Natasha softly. She looked up at Bruce. "Who can?"

He smiled a slightly sickly smile. "I know a Person who can," he said.

"Oh, Jesus Christ . . ." exclaimed Clint, tossing the remains of his sandwich on the table in front of him.

Tony mimed pressing a buzzer and gave a credible impersonation of the noise it might make. "I'm sorry, you didn't phrase your answer in the form of a question – the correct answer would be 'Who is Jesus Christ?' I would also have accepted 'Who is Jesus of Nazareth?'"

"And who _is_ He, Tony?" asked Bruce softly.

Tony paused for a few seconds. "Gimmie time, Bruce, okay?"

"You're living on arc reactor time already, Tony," Bruce reminded him, but he did not push the issue.

"I think," said Thor, "you would do well to not use that name so profanely, Clint. Those He claims as followers are tenacious – they have a courage different from warriors', but no less."

Clint shrugged dismissively. "Whatever," was all he said. He turned to Bruce. "And where do you get off with this preaching? _Hulk_? Seriously!"

Bruce didn't look offended. "I'm not perfect – never said I was. Far from it. I'm angry all the time, and you wouldn't like me when I'm angry. But you don't like _me_ – and I think that's an important point. You like Him _in_ me."

Clint rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

But Natasha would not be so easily put-off. "No, Clint," she said, "wait. There's something there – something Loki said to me. He called it base sentimentality – the idea that saving _you_ would be enough to wipe away the gushing red of my ledger. Saving one man, and not an innocent. And, of course, he's right – and he's wrong. It's poisoned honey – you'll eat it because you can't taste the poison, but if you do taste it you'll say it never _was_ honey. That it _isn't_ honey. And that's not true."

"Which means, of course," said Bruce, "something he said _was_."

Natasha nodded, slowly, not wanting to admit it. "He said I was a child at prayer – pathetic. And I didn't listen to that, not properly. I heard the whole phrase – child-at-prayer – and saw it as something pathetic, and weak. I'm sure that's how he meant it. But . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"It's the _child_ at prayer that's the issue, right?" asked Tony. "That's what you think you should have heard? You can't make a deal, setting red against black in the ledger, because you have no black of your own. That's a deal a child tries to make, and it's wrong. Is that what you think?'

Clint looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What do _you_ think, Stark?" he asked sharply.

Tony appeared to consider. "I think . . ." he began. "I think we should have another round of shawarma and then hit the sack," he finished, snapping his fingers for the waiter.

**A/n :** Closing author's notes! As mentioned above, I tried to hit the notes of the post-post-credit scene in several little ways. I also made extensive use of quotes from the movies – sometimes chopped up, sometimes verbatim.

The reference to Rodney King was suggested by his recent death, and the "negro" language (and Stark's reaction to it) was included for the same reason I included it in _Time_; Rogers is a man from a very different world and with different attitudes. Certainly, Captain America would not be a racist in the modern sense of the world – quite the opposite – but the correct _term_ to used (and even the level of candor appropriate) has changed in seventy years.

There are a couple of touches – the negro reference, the Starkphone – which are shared with my story _Time_. I don't think the two stories can be considered to exist in the same world – this one _could_ fit into _The Avengers_ while _Time_ certainly couldn't (it depicts the first meeting between Stark and Rogers, one which is radically different from the canonical events of the movie). Still, there is a similarity between the pieces; both are, essentially, character studies.

I tried to make the voices of each character distinct and as true as possible to the movies, with a few touches from the comics and elsewhere. Much of Stark's voice is actually Robert Downey Jr's (a man who, famously, became far more conservative although not Christian following his stint in jail). Another source – and a partial source for the title (Latin for _You, too?_) - was an interview with Bono of the band U2. In that, he specifically speaks about Christianity and talks about the difference between karma and grace – he says he wants to rely on grace, not karma, because he recognizes none of us are doing very well. Bono is, as is well known, a generous charitable philanthropist – in much the same position as Stark.

In many ways, Barton is little more than a foil here – he has little of his own personality (the other character who suffers in this way is Thor, who exists basically as a means of delivering an important point about the nature of duty and a Spiderman-esque "with great power . . ." adage). Barton is a difficult character to get a handle on – we see little of "him" in the movie (for half of it, he has his will sucked out by Loki's scepter) and perhaps I have done him a disservice by making him little more than a cynical mouthpiece for some generic aggrieved nihilism over having his feel-good apple-cart kicked over.

The pieces ends abruptly – deliberately so. Firstly, it was late and I wanted to get to bed :) But, additionally, to continue the piece to some sort of conclusion denies any choice the reader can make – there is certainly more than could be said about this very complex issue of grace-vs-karma, of forgiveness-vs-debt-paying, and the conversation ends unnaturally. But, the main points are (I think) made and provide an opportunity for the reader to think.

And, as well, one cannot push the engine of a genre too far and too much off the track. To continue the discussion would either force Stark (especially) to affirm or deny Christianity explicitly – and that is not something Tony Stark is really _about_. It is far more in keeping with his personality to laugh and brush the issue off, shoving it away for another time. The abrupt, almost-truncated end, jars the reader into continuing the conversation himself – if _only with_ himself.

There are probably more author's notes I could write – and, depending on the feedback I get and the need to explain points, I might edit and add. For now, thanks for reading and please comment and review. As I said, flames and insults are not the way to begin a polite dialog, and I am really NOT interested in an impolite dialog!

Or, it must be said, dialogs which begin with issues only tangentially related to the themes of this story, to be frank . . .


End file.
